AA: A Christmas Carol
by Sith Droideka
Summary: This year, on Christmas Eve: Manfred von Karma has ruined everyone's Christmas, forever, by enacting his revenge against the dead-for-fifteen years Gregory Edgeworth. After a visit from that same Gregory Edgeworth's ghost, Manfred begins a journey to discover the true meaning of Christmas.


**I had this idea, like, literally a year or two ago and had to wait until yesterday to write it.**

* * *

 _December 24, 11:30 PM, Manor von Karma_

Gregory Edgeworth was dead to begin with.

And today, in about half an hour, all the loose ends would be tied up. The person who had taken the fall for the murder would get rid of the person who had gotten him off the hook, and Miles Edgeworth… well, he would be dealt with. Everything was going to work out for Manfred von Karma, perfectly. As it always should.

Manfred von Karma walked the long walk up to his front door, his back perfectly straight and his steps perfectly measured, with no hint of weakness or age in his walk despite the cane. His large, luxurious mansion was decorated lavishly for the season, inside and out, with boughs and bells and strings of colored lights - all very tasteful, and of course expensive - although he didn't really celebrate much. In fact, he couldn't care less about Christmas. It was just some holiday that did no more than waste his time and convince the people around him that everyone couldn't see through their false veneer of cheerfulness and charity. To Manfred, Christmas was another day, nothing more.

He approached his front door. There was a large silver knocker on it, rarely used since visitors or deliverymen usually called in from the gate. Manfred typically ignored it, although it was certainly kept clean and very shiny at all times. (Of course, he couldn't stand to have anything in his house to be less than absolutely perfect in presentation and substance.) But - his eye was caught by the large silver knocker this time.

Mostly because it was in the shape of the face of one Gregory Edgeworth.

Manfred blinked, and the apparition was gone. He grit his teeth, feeling the old pain in his shoulder come back at the reminder of what happened 15 years ago. _Gregory Edgeworth…_ He opened the door, giving no further thought to the hallucination.

(If he had, though, he would have already known where this was going.)

His house was empty. His wife was long dead, his elder daughter always spent Christmas with her own husband and daughter, and Franziska was in Germany with no plans to return home for the holidays - not that it wasn't too late already. That suited Manfred just fine, frankly. He wouldn't have been opposed to having his family around, of course, but that was true at any time of the year, not just Christmas, and he hardly felt lonely. In fact, being alone was more efficient.

He made himself dinner - a simple yet elegant meal - and retired to the comfortable chair in front of his fireplace, where he built a huge, roaring fire. He would unwind, relax, and digest his food for exactly twenty minutes, and then he would go to bed.

A small bell on one of the garlands on the wall tinkled once.

Manfred glared at it, and it stopped. He looked at the fireplace again, and the bell rang again, and then another bell, and another, until every bell in the manor was pealing, loudly and furiously, heralding Manfred's (somewhat belated, considering the knocker incident) realization of what was happening tonight.

"Not very creative," he grumbled as a transparent Gregory Edgeworth entered the room.

"I thought you'd appreciate a little Charles Dickens," Gregory said. "You always did seem like the type who enjoys the classics."

"Bah."

"Oh, you're just setting yourself up now."

Manfred glowered at him, but Gregory was no more intimidated by it now than he had been in life, which was to say not at all. "I suppose you're here," he said, "to teach me the true meaning of Christmas, and to convince me to keep it in my heart all year round."

"No, I'm here because you murdered me 15 years ago," Gregory said flatly. "And to think I thought it was my son until you decided to do… well, this. Hammond wasn't exactly a shining example of my profession, I'll admit, but he didn't deserve to _die_."

"Hmph."

"Although a little Christmas spirit can go a long way, Mr. von Karma."

"When does the first spirit arrive?" Manfred said, wishing to get it over with.

Gregory shrugged. "This is a solo job. I am the Spirit of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet To Come, all in one."

"Well, get on with it." He thumped the foot of his cane against the floor.

"…you know, this will be much more beneficial if you come with me with an open mind."

"Get on with it."

* * *

 _Fifteen years ago, Edgeworth household_

The modest house in the suburbs felt ten times bigger with the decorations and a hundred times cozier with the smell of Christmas dinner cooking. Gregory - the living one, not the ghostly one that accompanied Manfred to witness this scene - was the one cooking; his wife, young Miles' mother, was long gone, but if he felt her absence more keenly in this happy season, he didn't let on. After all, he had a son. And that son was sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a thick legal book that he had gotten as a present that morning.

It was certainly not a book meant for children, and that was why he was in the kitchen with his father, so he could ask him what words meant what and how they related to other things whenever he got stuck - and he was also in there because of the smell of ham baking in the oven, and rolls, and the potatoes boiling on the stove, and Gregory was putting together a pie - and he was also in there simply because he loved his father and he wanted nothing more right than to just be around him. After all, what was Christmas about, if not family and togetherness?

"Father," said Miles, who was only nine years old, and with no way of knowing what would happen at the conclusion of the Master trial, "what does 'Audi alteram partem' mean?"

"It means that someone can't be judged fairly unless both sides to the case against them have been heard," Gregory replied, glancing over at his son.

"So the Judge can't render a verdict until both the prosecution and defense have spoken."

"Yes."

"I think the phrase 'crimen falsi' would have been more appropriate with you here," the Ghost of Christmas Past (Gregory) said. "Don't you agree, Mr. von Karma?"

"Why am I here?" Manfred said imperiously, "you and your son have nothing to do with me."

The Ghost of Christmas Past's eyebrows drew together, and he gestured towards his past self.

"Son," his past self said, "sometimes I worry that you have a hard time relating to your friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Most children don't know as much about the law as you do."

Miles shrugged, flipped a page. "Phoenix can keep up with me, sometimes." He looked up. "I'm sure if everyone else in my class already knew what they want to be when they grow up, they would research it as much as I do!"

Gregory smiled kindly. "You still have plenty of time to find your own path in life, son. You don't have to be a defense attorney just because I am."

"But Father!" Miles exclaimed, "I _want_ to be a defense attorney! I want to be just like you!"

"'Just like you,'" Gregory's ghost murmured, almost involuntarily.

The potatoes started to boil over, and the living Gregory rushed over to save them. Miles stood up to help, then sat back down again when he saw his father had the situation under control. The scene faded, leaving Manfred and the dead Gregory in a featureless black plane.

Gregory looked at Manfred expectantly. Manfred raised an eyebrow.

"Three days later, you killed me," Gregory finally said. "That was the last Christmas Miles and I spent together."

"You can hardly spend another Christmas with him when you're dead," Manfred pointed out, harrumphing.

Gregory's lips pressed together in a tight frown. "I think you're missing the point, Mr. von Karma."

"I think you're wasting my time, Edgeworth."

* * *

 _Ten years ago, Manor von Karma (Germany)_

A perfect Christmas. A darling seven-year-old girl, armed with a riding crap three-quarters her size, and a fourteen-year-old adopted black sheep of the family, who stood awkwardly in the corner as Franziska opened her presents (he hadn't received any). Manfred himself - a past version of himself, anyway, who looked virtually identical to him as he stood, invisibly, observing that year's Christmas - was settled in a great chair, also observing that year's Christmas.

"Edgeworth," past Manfred barked, "pick up the wrapping paper."

"Yes, sir," Miles said, his voice cracking awkwardly.

"And Franziska," Manfred turned his attention to his daughter, "what do you say?"

Franziska jumped to her feet and gave him a curtsy. "Thank you for the gifts, Papa."

Manfred made a low rumble of approval, then stood. "I am going to bed now," he said, "tomorrow morning, this room had better be perfectly clean. Franziska, that goes double for your bedroom. Get your presents put away."

"Yes, Papa."

Manfred left. The invisible Manfred brought here by the spirit of Gregory Edgeworth expected this inane scene to dissolve before his eyes at this point, but it did not. Instead, it continued with the child Franziska approaching Edgeworth, who was still stooped over and picking up the wrapping paper she had scattered everywhere.

"What is taking you so long, little brother?" she said, her haughtiness a good imitation of her father's, pointing her riding crop at him.

"I'm picking up after you," Edgeworth said, "you could help."

She smacked him with her riding crop. Edgeworth flinched. "You are perfectly capable of cleaning up all by yourself. And you must help me put away my presents!"

"Are you not perfectly capable of doing that yourself?"

"Do not back-talk me!" Franziska snapped, waving her riding crop around again, then added, almost sheepishly, "I cannot reach the top shelves of my bookshelf."

Edgeworth nodded, with a weak attempt at a smile. "Then I'll help you."

"Good!"

"However, I need to finish picking up all this wrapping paper first…"

"And," Franziska said loudly, then lowered her voice a bit, "when you are done with that, I have something for you, little brother."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow at her. The gesture was mirrored by Manfred. _Franziska?_ Have something for _Edgeworth?_

Franziska reached under the tree and pulled out a package - wrapped to the best of a seven-year-old's ability - that Manfred hadn't noticed at the time. She handed it to Edgeworth, her posture confident but her expression shy.

Edgeworth took it without speaking. He stared at her, and she nodded at him. Slowly, hesitantly, he removed the wrapping paper - it was a small book of chess strategies. There was a sticker from the local bookstore on the cover.

All was silent for a moment. Manfred frowned.

"Thank you," Edgeworth choked out. Looking closely, Manfred saw that there were tears in his eyes.

"It is the best present ever, is it not?" Franziska said proudly.

"It's the only present I've gotten since… I came here," Edgeworth replied.

"And that makes it the best!"

"Yes, Franziska. Yes, it does."

She nodded again, crossing her arms, then said in a perfect mimic of her father's earlier tone, "I am going to bed now. Bring my presents to my room when you are able." She marched off before Edgeworth could reply, the tiny heels of her tiny boots clicking against the floor.

Edgeworth was left holding a book of chess strategies in an empty room. Then he sat down in Manfred's chair and began reading it. The scene faded.

"Franziska… gave him a _present?_ " Manfred said, incredulous and somewhat angry.

"She did every year after this one, too," Gregory said.

Manfred _hmph_ ed. "Unbelievable. To think she would waste time and money on him like that!"

"She has a good heart, deep down," Gregory said, "despite your influence. You put my son through a lot by acting as his legal father, but I believe it did your daughter good to have him as a brother."

Manfred _hmph_ ed again.

Gregory sighed. "Of course, it shouldn't have been her adopted brother's job to make up for your failures as a parent…"

* * *

 _Four years ago, Cemetery_

It was damp that Christmas. The ground squelched under Edgeworth's perfectly polished shoes as he walked across the cemetery grounds towards a certain grave - a grave that said _Gregory Edgeworth… laid to rest, December 28 2001_. He stopped in front of it.

"How sentimental of him," Manfred commented derisively.

Edgeworth stared down at the grave, his cravat ruffling in the breeze. A long moment passed. Edgeworth looked from side to side, ensuring that he was the only one in the graveyard - which of course he was, as everyone else in the city had the living to spend time with on this day.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I passed the bar exam this year, Father."

The dead couldn't reply, of course - even the ghost standing next to Manfred didn't say anything.

"I'm… an attorney now. Criminal law, just as I said." His eyes grew dark. "Keeping criminals off the streets…"

Somehow, the pause managed to be awkward, even though it was only a twenty-year-old man talking to an inanimate slab of granite and the water beaded up on its unfeeling face.

Edgeworth checked his watch and sighed. "This time of year just hasn't been the same since… you…" he trailed off, and swallowed hard. Surely he had somewhere to be. "Well. Merry- …merry Christmas, Father."

Edgeworth walked off, and the city dissolved with him, the gray sky fading to black and the damp and chill turning to pure neutrality. Manfred was left staring at Gregory again.

"How _very_ sentimental of him," Manfred sneered.

"He lost his father _three days after Christmas_ ," Gregory said, "because _you_ couldn't stand the fact that you were assigned a penalty for forging an autopsy report." He frowned severely. "You won the case, anyway."

"What's next? Shall you show me Jeffery Master in prison?"

* * *

 _Christmas day, Detention Center_

"Today's chocolates are special," Kate Hall said. "Merry Christmas!" Jeffery Master ate them with tears in his eyes.

"I was not being serious," Manfred growled.

"You've ruined so many Christmases," Gregory said cryptically.

Manfred tapped his cane against the floor, a resounding sound that went unheard by the prisoner and his visitor. "What is your _point_ , Gregory Edgeworth?"

"If you'd anything resembling a human heart or soul, you would have already realized it."

"What do you _want?_ "

Gregory's jaw was set. "I want you to turn yourself in."

* * *

 _Christmas day, Gourd Lake_

"You can't be serious," Manfred said.

"I am," Edgeworth said.

"I will not."

"You should."

Manfred scoffed. Edgeworth gestured towards that idiot detective, Gumshoe, who was frantically searching the crime scene and occasionally lashing out at the other officers there.

"Look at him. He knows that there's more to this case than meets the eye."

"He is a fool," Manfred said dismissively. "My plan is perfect; I will not be caught."

* * *

 _Christmas day, Wright & Co. Law Offices_

"Hey, hey, Nick! Do you know if there's any good waterfalls around here?"

"Waterfalls…? Dare I ask why?"

Gregory shook his head. "This isn't about _getting caught_ or not. It's about the doing the right thing. It's not too late, Mr. von Karma."

Manfred scowled at him. "Since when have I cared about _doing the right thing?_ That's a false ideal held only by the weak and imperfect."

"Duh, Nick! Isn't it obvious? I need a waterfall to stand under! Preferably a freezing one!"

"... Oh... Is that part of your spirit medium training?"

"Oh come now," Gregory said, "after all you've seen so far, don't you feel at least a little guilty?"

"Guilty?" Manfred said, "I see. You are merely trying to guilt-trip me into surrendering myself."

"Well, yes." Gregory glared at him. "Obviously."

"Of course! Except, I've been slacking off lately... I need to brave the elements and be forged anew under the rushing spring waters!"

"You've done some terrible things in your time, Mr. von Karma," Gregory said, "but it's not too late to try to rectify at least some of them. I urge you - face justice for what you have done."

Manfred just scoffed.

Gregory narrowed his eyes. "If you get away with my murder, there are dark times coming for all."

"Bah."

"Very well."

* * *

 _December 29, Detention center_

"I'm sorry," the guard said, "he refuses to see anyone."

Phoenix's face fell. "Oh."

"Maybe tomorrow?"

"No…" Phoenix turned away. "He's not going to want to talk to me again… ever. Ah, sorry for wasting your time." He tried to smile at the guard, but it was flat and lifeless and did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. The guard frowned in turn, but let Phoenix leave without comment.

Outside, Phoenix tried calling Maya on his cell phone again. Nothing. He sighed in frustration. "Guess she doesn't want to talk to me, either…"

He walked back to his apartment, ignoring the haggard, leftover Christmas sale advertisements and decorations not yet taken down. The stairs creaked as he climbed them. He locked the door tightly behind him.

"I guess this is it," he said to no one in particular, taking off his shoes. "I guess that's that," he continued, shrugging off his coat. "I guess I'm done." He unpinned his attorney's badge.

He stared at it a long while, then walked over to the window. "I only became a defense attorney for one reason," he said miserably, "and I messed up. What's the point?"

He opened the window and, after a moment's hesitation, threw the badge out. It hit the ground below outside with a _clink_ , bouncing a few times, then rolling into a storm drain.

"Edgeworth…" Phoenix murmured, white-knuckling the windowsill, "I'm so sorry."

* * *

"… _and?_ " Manfred said, unmoved.

"And he quits law forever," Gregory said, like it was obvious. "Dozens of people are imprisoned unjustly because he wasn't there to defend them, and even more people walk free when they should be facing justice - just as you should."

"That is his decision," Manfred said, "I have no bearing on it."

"And my son," Gregory went on as though Manfred hadn't spoken, "had a bright future ahead of him. Sooner or later he'd manage to crawl out of your shadow, and work to create a safer, more just world than the one you forced on him."

"His future does not matter to me."

Manfred's living room began to wax into view. Gregory's serious expression did not change. "His is not the only future at stake here."

"That does not matter to me, either."

"…Manfred. Turn yourself in."

"No."

"After everything I've shown you - you're still willing to throw it all away for your revenge against me, a man you already killed?"

"Yes."

Gregory's brow furrowed. "Didn't you learn _anything?_ "

Manfred sat down in his chair and leveled an imperial gaze at Gregory's ghost. "No."

There was a long pause.

Gregory opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well."

"Are you quite done?" Manfred said.

"I suppose I am," Gregory said. A fedora materialized out of nowhere in his hand, and he put it on. "I'll find some other way to rectify this situation."

"There is none," Manfred said smugly, "as I said before: My plan is perfect."

"So you'd like to think. I'm going to go haunt that Phoenix Wright kid. Perhaps a little otherworldly inspiration will come in handy in the next few days…"

* * *

 _December 25, 12:30 AM, Manor von Karma_

Manfred von Karma awoke with a start. He blinked, then took a cautious look around his living room - no Gregory Edgeworth, and indeed no sign he'd even been there. The fire was still lit, although just embers now, and the decorative bells in the boughs were still and silent.

One corner of his mouth twitched. "Bah," he said.

"Humbug."

* * *

 **A/N: Merry Christmas, y'all!**


End file.
